


I thought you should know... 2

by Mirkys_Concubine



Series: ITYSK [2]
Category: Superman - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anti-Hero, Cheating, Dark Character, Dark Steve Rogers, Depression, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Jealousy, M/M, Pining, Stabbing, Threesome - F/M/M, love me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:48:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27597115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirkys_Concubine/pseuds/Mirkys_Concubine
Summary: Sequel to ITYSK.Time passes and you (****) come back to stir trouble, get even, and maybe move on to better options? A girl can dream right?Excerpt:It was a clean shot.Adjusting your vision you took it and a body dropped, another, then another, and another, the dot in the distance dressed in blue turned in your direction and gave you a thumbs up."Asshole." You mumble before moving on.Just another day, another dollar, another assignment**** is short for y/n and reader cuz it's annoying.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Lex Luthor, Clark Kent/Reader, Lex Luthor/Original Female Character, Steve Rogers/Reader
Series: ITYSK [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2017606
Comments: 5
Kudos: 33





	I thought you should know... 2

**Author's Note:**

> FYI: **** is my shorthand for Y/N - Y/L/N
> 
> So thank you specifically to **make_me_go_gaga** who reviewed the first installment and I went 😈 with her suggestion of Clark.  
> Plus, loves/cuddles/cookies to the readers who reviewed. Thank you for taking the extra minjte to leave a comment.  
> Thanks to those kudos too ;) it's orgasm worthy 🖤
> 
> Note:  
> I'm not terribly familiar with Superman/Lex Luthor facts other than Smallville from ages ago. I promise I'll treat them well.  
> Also, mentions of suicidal thoughts - there's no description except a comment on taking pills.  
> Also, a brief mention of a child being used as bait in a sexual manner. It's a past action but nothing happened to the child, there's no descriptions, nothing dark or sexual but the Rape word is thrown in but again - nothing sexual happens.  
> Forewarned.  
> 💜

**I Thought You Should Know**

**Aka**

**The Sequel**

**Aka**

**Fuck you Steve Rogers!**

* * *

> "Never underestimate a man's ability to make you feel guilty for his mistakes." — Rihanna

* * *

  
It was a clean shot.  
Adjusting your vision you took it and a body dropped, another, then another, and another, the dot in the distance dressed in blue turned in your direction and gave you a thumbs up.  
"Asshole." You mumble before moving on.  
Just another day, another dollar, another assignment.   
.  
You weren't paid to conversate, to be _friendly_ , to interact and mingle. Your job was to stand to the side, take direction, and kill. It was an interesting upgrade from the last time you were around the Douche Crew aka Avengers.  
From desk job to Mercenary for Hire.  
Sweet way to deal with depression and the overwhelming urge to destroy the misfit group of narcissistic _heros_.   
Kill bad guys.  
Your therapist would say you're self destructive and maybe they were right but the opportunity to be this person had always been there you just chose not to.  
At least you moved on from the suicide missions.   
There was that.  
Progress much to your therapist frustration.   
Sitting in your corner taking care of your babies - aka your weapons - you ignored the conversation of the others and sharpened your arsenal of knives and cleaned your guns. Thankful you were known as the mute one in the group, "Queen!" Because yes your codename was your status and look up, it was Bucky. "You're needed in briefing."  
Sigh.  
You take your time putting things together and carefully returning your arsenal where they belonged, on you. You refused to go anywhere without them and you didn't care enough as you were willing to stay outside and loiter rather than disarm.  
Bucky had long since abandoned you, the man was impatient and had never taken a liking to you which was fine. The whole point was to watch, assess, and eliminate. Not be bosom buddies.  
The room where the briefing was held was spacious and a single empty seat was left for you, right beside Steve Rogers of all people. While you were willing to keep the bastard alive you settled against the wall by the door and relaxed. "Take a seat Agent." Someone says.  
As an answer you crossed your arms and leg over the other, comfortable. By now they all knew you'd rather lean against a wall than associate with them. Any of them. Had to be biggest blow to their egos when just about everyone flocked to them as if the stars hung from their ass.  
Fury looked you over, today you wore blue, a baby powder color matched well with your mask that hid everything, even your eyes, with dirt marks here and there from where you were laying taking shots. "We're one step closer..."   
You let his words drone on and on. If they asked you a question you'd make a show of sighing, pulling out your phone, and having Google speak your text words. It was annoying but it annoyed them more.  
You revelled in the petty.  
Last one in, first one out, you're gone before anyone could attempt small talk.   
.  
"Hey Jack." You slip into the free stool that looked clean and brushed off the crumbs on the bartop.  
The man behind the bar scowled, the dirty rag stilling as the clean glass was gripped tightly, "I will kill you."  
You grin. "Make it hurt, I like that." You give him a flirty look.  
He plops the glass on the bar top with enough force you're surprised it didn't crack and leaned in, "I've told you **not** to use my name here. Are you stupid? Wait, don't answer that, we both know you are."  
Fluttering your eyelashes you nudge over an envelope of cash that was quickly snatched and counted. "How's the Pool?"  
"As insane as ever. Why are you here? I sent you what you wanted online."  
"Great, awesome, love your work, I need the hard copies. Printing at Wal-Mart or Kodak would be stupid."  
The man huffs, drops the envelope behind the bar and rummaged around his rack for a bottle and pours you a shot. "That'll cost you extra."  
From your purse that still hung off your shoulder you pulled out a rectangle box with a hello kitty sticker closing the flap. Sliding it over you take the shot with a grimace.   
Weasel picks it up and arches a brow at the sticker but opened it nonetheless. A perfect row of oatmeal cookies sat and the corner of his lip twitched upwards. "Wait here." And he was gone.  
The vanilla envelope was familiar and brought a surge of old emotions you pushed down and squashed.  
Water under the bridge you tell yourself.  
"Glossy print?" You sort through the stack.  
"I expect more cookies to be delivered." He sniffs before pouring you a second shot but this time a better quality liquor, you still grimace.  
"Of course. Pleasure doing business with you Snookums."  
"For fucks sake ****, say my name!"  
A wicked grin has the man taking a step back, tilting your head back you shout, "Weasel!" In the best bedroom voice you had, "Yes thank you daddy."  
The dirty rag is tossed at you and you dodge it as you make your way out of Sister Margaret's.   
.  
Incognito.   
It's how you made it this far, the small USB drive burned a whole in your bra but you waited until the right moment.   
Another fight, another battle, another world ending scenario to sneak into the compound and do what needs to do.   
The first step had been easy enough, infiltrate FRIDAY, the sister to JARVIS, with a trojan horse well hidden in data that was meant to pass through all of its safety net. After all, you were one of the best hackers the Avengers and the government had.  
It helped you had friends in low places but this was your baby. A month-long binge session of codes that brought you infinite pleasure when you had used a quinjet to download an area map.  
Tony was left frustrated with the random failing of his A.I. between labs malfunctioning and schematics lost you've probably cost him millions.  
You had an eight minute gap to get into the compound and out.   
It took you 6  
You left no trace, no visuals, no scent, nothing was out of place barring the photos you had left sitting on Steve's bed and Clint's only his was under the pillow.   
As tempted as you were to send his photos to his wife you instead returned the favor: _**Tit for tat.**_ with a smiley face on a sticky note. Clint in the arms of another man would be their secret less he tattles and you're sure he wouldn't.   
.  
Dressed in green you flip a knife in the air and catch it, seemingly bored as you listen in on a whispered conversation in a language you were quite familiar with.  
"They canceled the wedding."  
A grin was well hidden behind your mask as rumors spread abound about Captain America breaking off his engagement but the why was a speculation and the guesses were interesting.  
It didn't take much.  
A slipped note, typed, no fingerprints, into the pocket of the biggest gossiper and soon the _truth_ was out there much to the chagrin of the Avengers.   
Captain America's perfect fiancé, the woman whom he had put on a pedestal had been caught in a love affair with not only one person but two.  
Natasha and Bucky.  
Pictures didn't lie.  
High gloss with close up couldn't be disproven as false not with documented evidence such as receipts and links to surveillance cameras showing the pairs and occasional trio living it up.  
You didn't believe in Karma but this... this was **it**.  
.  
Gossip was a beautiful and terrible thing. Rumors of the Avengers splitting and the quiet rage cloud that consumed Captain America making him absolutely unbearable to work with... well... you had to see this for yourself.   
It was an assignment close to home. Northeastern part of the U.S., Delaware, the hometown to evils and the saint that was Superman.  
HYDRA had taken to trying to find a new base of operations and even people who dealt in the underworld didn't appreciate that sort of folk in their territory and where HYDRA went so did SHIELD or whatever they were called nowadays.  
The Winter Soldier was in one part of the state and Captain America in another. The agents in-between doing their damnedest to keep the pair separate and you were that silent thorn that brought them together.  
Brother in arms.  
It was delightful as you sat on the edge of a building, legs dangling, microscope centered on the pair who were exchanging punches in the rubble of a HYDRA base.   
You needed popcorn and a margarita.   
"Wipe your chin, you're drooling." You jump and whirl around, eyes wide, your visor open and showing off your purple eyeliner. Superman hovered before gently floating to the ground. The man winced, his eyes peering off into the distance and you scramble to swing your gaze back around, nearly poking your eye out as your microscope focuses but you're too late.  
Steve was on the ground and Bucky had his foot on the mans chest with a gun aimed at the Captains head. "Shoot... shoot..." you mumble and the man behind you rolled his eyes with a huff.  
"20 he shoots." He says.  
"20 he doesn't." You wager in return.  
You lost as Bucky did shoot but far to the side away from his former friends head.  
"I'm not a betting man but it feels good to finally win one."  
You flip him a finger before standing and brushing yourself off. "What are you doing here?"  
"Well," he grins and the sun happens to reflect _just_ right and accentuates the perfection that was his alien DNA. "Saw an ant and I was curious."  
It was natural at this point, the middle finger, "I'm a queen not an ant."  
"You are wearing yellow," he looks you over, "Bumblebee sound royal enough."  
It was true, you were dressed in yellow, more Heinz mustard, but it was snug and accentuated all your good bits. "Do I look good at least?" Hands on your waist you ignore the pinch of your corset squashing your innards, lungs included.  
"With or without x-ray?" He smirks, it's naughty and you watch as he squint and a smile twitches your lips as a blush stole over his perfect complexion . "****!" His brows pull together with a glare and you laugh.  
Loud and without shame, its echo catching attention but you think nothing of it. "Wanna play catch?" His brows furrow puzzled and without another word you run.  
"****!"  
And jump off the high-rise building, arms stretched out. For a moment as the pavement gets closer and closer you aren't horribly upset but you do feel relief when hands catch you under your arm pits and you let out a scream of absolute joy as you're zoomed away.  
Maybe you should have thought twice about your rooftop adventure because now the secret organization that paid you in bitcoin knew you had a voice and you were cozy with Superman. The one superhero they would have given _anything_ to touch base with.   
.  
Purple.  
It's a deep, rich, royal color and it matches your codename.  
Queen.  
Except you don't feel very royal, judging by the expression on Captain America's face you're a bug. A bug that would either burn to a crisp by his glare or stomped on.   
How did you get here you may wonder...   
Alone with the last person you would ever want to be alone with, they say he couldn't be killed but you've plotted and planned since you last saw him... so many ways to kill a super soldier.   
Now **that's** a wet dream.  
It was simple enough, group meeting. The usual cast of characters detailing the next undercover assignment and then:  
"Queen. Thanks for volunteering."  
Here's the thing.  
You don't volunteer, you've **never** volunteered for **any** undercover mission. You were a mercenary, a killer, a wam-bam sorta girl with a secret identity. Lazily you signed **NO** and as a final touch you also signed off with a **FUCK YOU**.  
Hopefully they understood it was in bold captions, let themselves know you meant it wholeheartedly. Of course shit went downhill with a ping-pong of _but you must!_  
No. You mustn't. As if they had any say since you were contractual.   
"Let me talk to her." It was Steve and the others had quickly filed out.  
That had been several minutes ago and the box you presumed that had held donuts, in fact didn't. Steve quietly nudged it forward and opened it before sitting back and glowering.  
Another sullen minute passes and you pull out your phone, the least you can do is play candy crush, and your case matched your outfit. Lady goals with hints of incognito.  
"You're not curious?" He says and you ignore him. "Lex Luthor is hosting a gala tomorrow night at one of his clubs, its formal attire and we've received intel an élite member of HYDRA will be in attendance. LexCorp is a front for illegal business and it would be a smart move for HYDRA to tap into that sort of potential."  
The words do it's job and you pause at the name that had been spoken. Lex Luthor, a slimy git, possibly richer than Tony Stark, but it sat wrong. Luthor was many things, he cared for very little, very - very - very little but HYDRA was a virus.  
Lex Luther would be a fool to submit to anyone especially HYDRA.  
Of course you speak not a word and while you know Steve had caught your slip you quietly exit from your game and open Google. _**'Luthor is a narcissist. He bows to no one. Move on.'**_  
Moments like these, when it came to the nitty-gritty, you could be serious. There was time to play around and time to work, work meant a paycheck so that was good.  
"Are you as familiar with Lex Luthor as you were with Superman?"  
_**'He's hot. I'd jump off every building in the city and hope to land in his lap.'**_ the broken speech has you grinning and you note that Steve could in fact get sourer.   
"Lex Luthor?" He grits.  
_**'Sugar daddy goals.'**_  
The man is a storm cloud of aggression as he stands. Once, long ago it was hot. Now it amused you as he stalked closer, dragging the box up the length of the table and paused at the end. "My patience runs thin with you _Queen_. Is this a game to you?"  
Blindly you tap out words and hit the green button, _**'Looser dies, winner lives.'**_ maybe you can piss him off enough he'd choke on it?   
"I hate you." Your fingers tap on your screen with a witty retort and you're not prepared for his lunge. You jump but Steve snatches your phone and with murder in his gaze, crushes it.  
Fingers curling around the cellphone and you can hear it crunching as if it were tinfoil and not high quality drop resistant. Fucker tosses it into the box of tissue paper and storms out leaving you stunned stupid.  
Shocked.  
Surprised.  
Dumbfounded.   
You have **a lot** of phones. None carry anything more personal than android games and a Pintrest account with an unhealthy obsession of food. Still... that was your favorite case. Closing the lid your fingers drums on the cardboard, something had happened where attention was suddenly on you.  
Did Steve know?  
Of course not, you were far too careful. Sighing you take the box and walk out the conference room and down the hall, you needed to think.   
.  
"If you fall I won't catch you."   
Of course Superman was a lieing douche because you did fall, jumping and forgetting you were sitting on a ledge at a height that made your heart drop. Unfortunately you also dropped your coffee as Superman lunged for you and you gripped him like an octopus. "Hate you **sooo** much."  
"Really?" And the fucker let's you go and you thought you were latched on but no. Your arms strain to keep around his neck, your heels dig into him and of course the asshole laughs before he floats forward and sets you back on your warm spot. "There." He nudges you back with a push and you have to fold your legs, "Now. How did you get up here?"  
"Classified. Shouldn't you be saving kittens from trees?" Can you have a heart attack with how hard your heart was beating?  
He cocks a brow. "I've upgraded. Now I save crazy feral pussy's from skyscrapers."  
Surprise widens your eyes and the open gap that was your lower half of your face reveals the shock that quickly curls into a grin, "Dirty alien!"  
Another eye roll. "Must you send me those E.T. crap?"  
"Those boxers are 100 percent cotton." And yes, you have a problem, bothering the poor man with random crap. It was cackle worthy.  
"They got me in trouble with the second half."  
"And I bet the sex made your eyes cross and left you limping." The bloom of color was stunning and you were jealous, the man was handsome and the cape spoke to every tween vampire romance novel you had ever consumed. "Details!" You demanded without shame.   
"Do you have any shame left in you ****?" You laugh because no, no you don't, and he was fully aware of that. "And another thing missy!" He hovered closer, "Why am I the one limping?"  
"You're such a pretty boy with a nice ass?"  
He waves a finger at you, "Keep your eyes up missy."  
And like that a moment passes in comfortable silence. You settle back and stare out into the jungle of concrete and cloudy sky. He looks you over and you know he finds your uniform distasteful - unoriginal and lazy since it's one solid color.   
"Who has pissed you off?" His arms are crossed, a better pose than when he settles them on his hips.  
"Can't a girl sit on ledges and ponder life without ulterior motives?"  
"Not if it's you."   
"Ah." You shrug, "My phone broke."  
He blinks, "How? Those things are **** proof."   
The box from earlier sits a little ways from you and you open it, pulling out your crushed phone and tossing it to the flying man. "Pissed off the Captain, wants me to play nice and work a room."  
Superman's face is stony with anger making his eyes glow. "Did he touch you ****?"  
Your brows raise as the man used your full legal name. Well that was a surprise seeing as your full legal name had been burned along with the car so long ago. "No."  
"And the box?" He doesn't return your phone and you don't request it back.   
"No idea. Was considering to burn it or sell it on Ebay." You close the lid, not tempted in the least to see what was hidden under the tissue paper.  
Superman's lips purse before his gaze shifts to the box and squint. "Clothes? What mission are they sending you on? You're faceless."  
At least someone gets it, "There's this rich dude. Kind tall, kinda bald, has this Dom Daddy personality." If you thought he was mad before, he was growling. "He's throwing a party tomorrow and it's formal, they think Dom Daddy would be stupid enough to associate with HYDRA."  
the anger ease just enough for humor to peak through, "He'll kill you if he hears you call him that."  
"He is kinda hot. I'd call him Master if the dick is good."  
"****!"  
"A girl has to have goals and a sugar daddy is one of them."  
"Will you stop, this is serious!" He snaps and you sober up.  
"I know."  
"They're trying to figure out who you are!"  
"I know."  
"If... if that asshole figures out it's **you** he'll, I don't know, kill you."  
"I know." Sigh, "I knew doing _this_ ," your hand gestures towards yourself, "Can probably end badly."  
"Dead. You mean dead."  
"I kill people for a living, that's a risk."  
"And you don't have to! If you just..."   
"Aaaaand here we go again," cutting in you throw your hands up, "I'm not going through that shit again. Getting your heart stomped on is fucking painful and I rather fuck the sadness away."  
He hovers even closer, hands gripping the edge of your ledge, "Slutting your way through the continents..."   
Pain flared in your hand but Superman had been thrown back by surprise as you punched the fucker in the face. Shaking your hand you're grateful you chose gloves with extra padding around the knuckles.  
Still.  
Ouch.  
Settling your mask back on your face properly you stood and without another word as the man floundered for something to say, you jumped.  
Tony Stark wasn't the only one with nifty gadgets. Sneakers smashing together and fists thumping your side's you felt a jolt of electricity as your uniform altered to a more aerodynamic version.  
Wings attached from you wrists and up, spread out as your arms lifted and the same for your legs that also had a strip of fabric that stretched out and you were gliding through the sky.   
The sun was still high enough that it reflected off your back, your solar panels glistening. It had taken a while and knowing the right people to be able to glide and if need be _fly_ , as long as the sun was out you could technically go on for miles.   
Swerving between buildings you hated that your eyes itched from crying and your chest stuttered. Who did _Superman_ think he was?  
If you fucked the entire northern hemisphere no one could say shit about it. Flexing your toes you're pushed faster as you swerve between buildings and play chicken with oncoming traffic.  
It's childish.  
Stupid.  
And borderline suicidal but you're not one to drag other people into your misery.  
Your back was causing you enough pain to keep you grounded. The solar panels weren't 100 percent effective and heated when pushed after a certain limit. Your pain threshold was unfortunately high enough and you rode it as you pushed yourself further and out of city limits.  
Where were you going?  
Anywhere but here and didn't care at the moment.  
Minutes ticked on and the pain had built up to a point where it had finally gotten to be too much. With practiced ease you slowed down and your feet touched ground and you ran. At first because you had to as you were unable to stop on a whim but you can smell the salt in the air of the ocean.   
Breaking through a tree line you can hear the crashing of waves and slowed until you were staring off into the distance of the ocean, chest heaving as you tried to ease the pounding in your chest, but you wanted to crumble and scream.  
No.  
Never again.  
Walking closer to the edge of the cliff you found yourself on you stared down at the crashing waves. Nature had always helped you **deal** and you were tired. Covering your face with your hands you let yourself cry it out, shoulders shaking.   
You don't hear the quiet arrival of Superman or his hesitancy as he watched on. You didn't hear his steps making their way to you but you jumped when a hand reached out to touch you. Again you jumped and made to turn but you forgot just how close you were to the edge and fell backwards.  
This time when Superman caught you he held you close and wrapped his arms around you before flying away with you clinging to him and crying because you couldn't hold it in anymore.  
.  
Awareness came with a background of arguing and a sinfully - **sinfully** \- soft mattress. Tugging the blankets up and over your head you snuggle into your pillow and doze.  
You've grown up with yelling and lived in places that were noise 24/7 and presumed the arguing was the neighbors. A quiet falls over your cocoon and it hits you... your hotel room had a mattress that was as stiff as plywood.   
The bed dips and you tug the sheet down from your face and take in the warm tangerine color walls, dark wood molding and the bedside table was a rustic style piece of furniture. Turning over you're startled to find Clark Kent standing with a tray of food but more surprising was the man sitting on the bed in a sharp charcoal suit.   
Curious, you lift the blanket and peer down at yourself. You were wearing your underwear... you guess it was bettered than being naked. "Rest assured Miss ****, your virtue is safe."  
"Lex!" Snapped Clark with a glare before he turned to you and floundered for what to say before pushing the tray out, "Coffee?"  
"What happened?" Your brain felt muffled and you can remember bits and pieces and jumping off a ledge... "Shit, did I try to kill myself again?" You sit up and the blankets pool at you waist uncaring of your bra that was all lace and completely inappropriate for your type of job.   
"Again?" The tray is set down on a bedside table and Clark was crawling to you, grabbing your arms, checking your bare wrists, as if he hadn't seen them before you were tucked in half-naked. "**** we talked about this."  
"Settle down." Lex heaved himself up with a sigh and peered down at the two of you, "Clark brought you here, you were hysterical and I gave you a sedative and while you were high out of your mind you chose my,"  
"Our." Clark snapped but the other man continued on without missing a beat.  
"Bed to make your nest. You had this loon," a finger pointed at Clark who look aghast, "Rip off your corset because, and I quote, _I can't catch it rip it off_. As you spun in a circle trying to reach for the laces."  
"I kind of panicked and ripped it off. Sorry."   
"He's not sorry, he burned the thing in the fireplace."  
"Secrets Lex! Married couples know how to keep secrets!" Clark glared and you watched them bicker back and forth, lost.   
"Can we not? As hot as it is, I'm too nauseous to join in on your makeup sex." That cut through the weird foreplay the duo had.  
"Get out." Lex tries but you ignore him as usual.  
"Here have some coffee!" Reaching for the tray Clark held onto it without strain.   
It was a giant mug of black coffee, a small plate with an oversized croissant, little jars of jelly that was a mismatched set from various fancy hotels you knew Clark had a habit of stealing from, a bowl of yogurt topped with fruit and granola, a whole tomato, a cow shaped creamer, and a pig shaped cup with sausage sticking up.   
"Remind me to never request breakfast in bed. You forgot silverware and cutting the dam tomato." Lex clapped his hands, "I'm off. Don't overstay your welcome and you're barred from all future events." And then he was gone.   
"He does have a nice ass." You mumble into your coffee that was sweet and perfect.   
"It makes up for his bad bedside manner." Then Clark is gone... and back with a spoon and knife, a knife he uses to cut your tomato. "There's a bedroom here for you." It's spoken softly and your eyes flick up to meet his then away, the croissant butter soft. "****?"  
"Hmm?"  
"I'm sorry."  
Now you remember, quite convenient when there's a knife in arms reach, "You're not." Strawberry jelly smears heavily. It's flavorful and you chewed slowly, savoring the rich taste. A sip of coffee and a your slurp breaks the silence.   
"I am. I shouldn't have said that."  
"You thought it and you spoke it. Simple logic."  
"No."  
"You're a whore." You pick up a tomato slice, "You fucked all the girls you cheered with and you bottomed for half your fraternity." It tasted juicy, "Lois Lane wasn't your only fuck buddy at the paper and Green Lantern misses your dick something fierce." From your peripheral it was interesting how embarrassed his face colored.  
"How..."  
"Now Lex," you interrupt. "Lex is a slut but he's a slut with standards like myself. Dick pics help weed out the useless ya know." Sip, "Men - woman - don't care." Sip, "It helps when you get really lonely and you can leave. No strings, no questions." Sip, "If you speak to me that way again," your gaze meets his, "I won't need kryptonite to kill you."   
"****..."  
"Refill please." You hand over your mug that's half filled and Clark takes it. Quietly he moves off the bed and walks out.   
The tray is settled at your side and you manage to shuffle over to the edge and stand by the time he comes back. Meeting him part way you ignore the way his eyes rake over you, "I'm..."  
You were tired of apologies and hugged him. He was tall and you settled for wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him tight, "Leave it."  
It's never brought up again.  
.  
The formal gala was beautiful. Lights, cameras, ice sculptures, bottles of champagne flowed as did the money for the secret auction, so secret no one was aware there was an auction.  
At least that's what the news had said.  
Lounging on a couch with a tub of ice cream your face is covered in an organic green tea mask, your body has been massaged by a last-minute goddess with hands that deserved to be preserved in the Vatican vault, and your feet was resting on Clark's lap where the man was massaging your left foot with a hand as the other hand tossed Gummi bears.  
You were horrible at catching them with your mouth but the colorful bears decorated the carpet and sofa with a certain pizazz. Elevator doors opened and expensive loafers dragged, "Why are you still here?"  
Spoon dangling from your mouth you pull it out and point it at the tired man who was being rerun on the massive television. "Did you have fun at your party?"  
"That _party_ brought millions to Saint Jude charity foundation."  
"Uhu... and how much really..."  
Lex dismissed you to turn to his husband, "Why is she still here."  
"I'm not putting her out, you can do that." It was said matter of factly with a hint of _try it, go on, I dare you_.  
Oh this was good, not as good as the ice cream but good.  
"****." You blink up at the tall bald-headed man, "Leave."  
"But the make-up sex."  
You think his eye is twitching, "There is no sex!"  
A pout twitches your lips and your spoon stabs at the ice cream, "But Dom Daddy Master sex is the best sex." Beside you Clark chokes on a gummy and Lex is a thundercloud as he steps closer and closer to you until he's close enough you can smell his cologne. "See," and you glance over at the coughing man who was thumping his chest, "That's hot. You're hot, we should...."  
"Shut up!" And you shut up, sitting back. "Your jokes are **not** appreciated. Pack your shit and run back to your Captain America. The epitome of all that's righteous and leave..." you snort and quickly cover your nose as ice cream somehow went up there. "Me and mine alone!"  
A napkin is passed to you, "Ignore him. He saw what's in the box and is not too happy right now."  
"Couldn't you have left it behind?" Wiping your nose you take in all that was Lex Luthor and processed what he said, "Why would I run back to that asshole?" Of course Lex had bared his teeth in a very animalistic way and stormed off so you turn to the quiet second half and said, "What was in the box?"  
"A dress." His face loses trace of all humor, "The accessories are a problem, my nose is quite good and you're not that type of person to..." Clark cuts off as Lex returns and all but flings the box at you and Clark catches it and settles it on your lap while taking away your ice cream.   
You ignore the argument that's caused by that stunt and take in the dented and dirty box that was lopsided and the tissue paper that hung half out. Clark was right, there was a dress balled up on top and you pull it out... it was a familiar dress.  
Black, shiny, skin-tight, one side would cover down the length of your thigh while the other was cut in a way to barely cover your vagina.   
You knew this dress.  
This was a similar dress you had in your closet from ages ago. It had been the dress you met Steve Rogers in when you had worked another undercover mission as a singer in an underground club. The lights on stage would make the material nearly sheer and showed off your curves and the nipple piercings you had gotten done for the gig.   
Well... "He knows." Or at least presumes who you are but how? Dropping the dress to the side you go through the rest of the stuff and pull out a pair of killer heels in your size, "Nope." And drop them both atop the dress. Next was a scrap of fabric that took a moment of turning it here and there to realize it was panties, "What the fuck is this?"  
Clark looks pink while Lex scowls but answers, "Thong."  
"This," you shake it like it's flag. "Wouldn't cover an ass cheek. I have a fat ass... the strings would cut across my hips and make me look like a ham hung to dry." That too was dropped and you rummaged around the jewelery, the hair extension that sat wrapped, and an empty clutch. "Stockings? It's cold, these fucker really think I would waltz around and freeze my clit off?"  
"The point was to entice me, your target, or that idiot." Confused, you glance up at the taller man. "Your choker. There's a mechanism that releases a pheromone when you get close enough to your victim. It's potent, it's an ingenious way to get me to leave and hand me over to SHIELD or attract that asshole who was there, dressed to impress and also wearing a wrist watch that had the same scent, my intel says he was hoping to use it on you if you had arrived. Fucker doesn't realize all phone calls are tapped, that was a mistake."  
Rummaging through the box you find rings, bracelets, a pair of studs for nipples - which what the fuck - but no choker. Glancing over at Clark you said, "You said your nose. How does it smell?  
"Musky. I only know about it because HYDRA is interested so they tried to use bait, young bait, to entrap my husband in a scandal. It didn't work, girl scouts don't make penthouse calls at 1am. Thankfully I was home and tossed the girl in the closet before dealing with him."  
"I could have raped that girl."   
"Lex, no." And Clark was off the couch and crowding his husband who leaned into the embrace with a miserable face and you felt upset. Box plopped on the oddly shaped coffee table you make your way around the duo and bare foot you walk to the elevator door that opens with a soft ping and step on, finger jabbing on the button to the ground floor.  
It was a short trip of quiet, you ignore the dried and cracked gunk that was on your face and stepped out into a lobby with its shiny floor and gold accents.   
There weren't many people about at this hour except a janitor that was windexing a window and a concierge who stood once he caught sight of you. "Ma'am!"  
"Phone?" You gesture to the old-fashioned looking thing that sits behind the desk. You knew it was a thing installed by Lex that was as private as you could get, and one that no nosey AI could hack into. An alternative option in case he was too lazy to take an elevator to the top floor.  
"I'm sorry but..."  
"Great, thanks, sit and be a good boy as mummy handles something." The man is a stuttering mess as you reach over and take it, plopping it on the high ledge.   
"Ma'am you can't!"  
Fingers presses into small holes and drag clockwise with each number. "Phone the penthouse, I'm sure Mr. Luthor would be ecstatic over us meeting."  
The concierge, who had his hand on separate phone and was calling security faltered, "Lex Luthor?"  
You smile, green tea dust falling, but before you can utter a comment the line picks up without a greeting, "Brucie poo, remember that favor you owe me? Well I'm collecting."   
The concierge moves away to stand with the Janitor who had been quick to call him over and tell him to keep his eyes down. Which was for the best since you were walking around in flannel that was oversized, courtesy of Clark. Switching to a different language and lowering your tone you spoke with an unamused Bruce Wayne, while not friendly with Lex, had been highly upset over the use of children as pawns.  
You weren't surprised.   
The elevator dings and you wave at Clark who jogged to you and you were quick to say your goodbyes, "Why didn't you tell me?" Frowning at the taller man.  
"You're not here, why would we tell you?" And that, that hurt.  
The elevator doors closed and you knew you needed to do something, time was wasting.  
.  
Solid black, it matched the coal around your eyes and the contacts you had struggled to put on. Boots were comfortably strapped up to your knee and you waltzed across a manicured lawn.   
The cameras were down.  
The dogs had been knocked out.  
Security had been scarce since a good portion had all come down with a _mysterious_ stomach bug. You can't really protect your benefactor if you're shitting your intestines out.   
Striding up the marble steps that led to a wrap around porch, you tried a door handle and found it locked. A laser took care of that, a nifty little thing you dropped on the ground and waltzed inside, smoke curling into the air from the burned brass and wood.  
Having had memorized the layout you strode to the kitchen, up a flight of stairs, down a hall, up another set of stairs, down another hall and to a bedroom door where you put yourself in a position that your com had instructed. Gun in hand you aim a degree left, swooped right, down center, each bullet piercing through the door and wall.  
Stopping only when your com had said so.   
You open the door and lean against the door jamb, the bodies on the ground paving a way to a lone man pressed against the corner of a wall holding a gun.  
"Hello honey." He aims and pulls the trigger. The gun jams. "Poor baby," you stalk over. "Let mommy kiss it better."  
From a distance away Superman removes the com in his ear cutting off the scream of the HYDRA operative who had tried to set up his husband.   
.  
Maybe if your com hadn't been knocked off and landed in a puddle of blood you would have found yourself here, in a chair, at the SHIELD headquarters.   
Great, just great.  
The chair was uncomfortable so you chose a nice corner to lay down, cross your ankles, and try for a nap.   
You had gotten as much as you expected from Mr. HYDRA guy which was meh. Not enough info compared to what you had but if you were honest, you weren't there for intel.  
It was just a great excuse to inflict as much pain as you could and death.   
You hated getting your hands dirty but... yea... getting caught on the back lawn with SHIELD agents storming up to you with guns and K9 was a weird experience.   
"****." Confirmation that Steve had a really good guess you were you. Ugh. The door closed behind him with a thump and the man strode over. "You can cut the act, I know who you are."  
You sign **WHO**.  
"I thought you were dead." You yawn, "I knew it was you when I heard you laugh." He pauses as if he expects you to talk. "Superman knows who you are, how do you know him?" Quiet. "Answer me." He sighs, voice changing to one of concern, one you had believed was his true self. "I miss you."  
A hand lifts and you sign **QUEEN**.  
"****!"   
Middle finger, no two fingers, point in his direction.  
A hand grips your ankle and you're dragged from the wall, your other free foot hits the ground with a thump, you curl your toes - triggering a nifty backup - and out pops a short knife. Steve let's out a shout as you stabbed him in the leg, once, twice, and his arm that swings to stop you before the man let you go.  
Blood coated the ground and the super soldier stumbled back, "What the fuck ****!" The security that patted you down didn't take _all_ your lovely toys.   
Hopping to your feet you waved a finger at him and signed **BAD BOY**. The doors open and two men with guns enter, they try to get Steve to leave but he's a stubborn fuck, "Back off, I've had worse."   
Just to fuck with him you sign, **POISON**.  
His eyes go wide and he stumbles out with the two guards and you're left alone once again.  
.  
The fuckery begins when the vents turn off, it takes a while for the air to get stifling and hot but you don't remove your uniform and lay on the ground sweating through your material and the pungent stench of blood has you breathing through your mouth.   
Stubborn to death you try to ignore the nausea that roils your stomach, a migraine forms at the back of your skull, and your mouth was dry and throat parched.  
Time churns and it's hard to focus so you keep your eyes closed but it does little to help. Maybe this was it? A smile quirks your chapped lips, at least you got to stab Steve, hopefully your knife was dirty and he got an infection.  
When did you close your eyes?  
Breathing was like choking on sand and you can hear the ragged sound of you inhaling deeply and sharply. A shadow hovered above you and you felt a tug and your body lifting before dropping. It's dizzying when your head lifts upwards but thankfully you're gently settled down  
"Shit's adhered to her skin."   
Was someone talking? No, let you sleep. Closing your eyes you hate that you're jostled as your legs are lifted and plopped on someone's knee.  
"Get me water and ice, her legs up will help with blood flow to the heart."  
Cold seeps through your uniform and the lip of a bottle entices your tongue to move and swish by swish cool water washes away the sandpaper feel of your mouth.  
"Cut it off her." You recognize that voice.  
"The first layer was easy, this is adhered to her skin." Pause, "I've seen this before Captain. You'll rip her skin off, best to wait until she regains conscious and..."  
"She's not HYDRA."  
"But you said..."  
"I know what I said, now get out!" There's a scuffle and a slam. Hands are tugging at the edges where the suit left your skin exposed. Someone had removed your boots and gloves... a sharp tug of pain at your temple reminded you you're wearing a mask that showed off your eyes and your mouth once the second layer was pulled aside.   
"God dammit." Steve growled, "Fine! We'll do this the hard way!"  
Your fingers curl and you try to move but your legs are heavy and a prickling sensation runs up and down. Move you tell yourself but you can't.  
"All I wanted was a simple yes or no." Something cold presses against your cheek, a pointed tip digging, trying to dig, beneath the seam of material and skin. "This is your fault ****."   
What?  
Pain causes your back to arch and your right calf to seize, you choke on a scream trying to move away from the slice of the knife as it digs under **your** skin and not the material but Steve has a firm grip on your chin.  
Blood seeps out and there's a swear from the man and the knife is pulled out. He ignore your whimpers of pain to move a single hand down your body. Skimming over your breasts, sides, sternum, waist, and back up to your throat, "A little less pressure eh?" The blood stained tip pops through the layer, Steve needing to push harder as the material - as thin as it was - was strong.  
The knife carefully drags downward, blood seeping from between the black material, and stills just under your bust line where your waist cincher catches the blade. "Hmm." Cutting straight down, the blade knocking through fabric and the hooks.  
The suit material was adhered to your cincher leaving your stomach bare. His free hand settled on your too warm skin, fingers tracing over the indentations left from the boning and material.   
He tries to tug at the material but your body shifts with it, "I'll get this thing off you even if I have to skin you."  
Shouting catches his attention but Steve ignores the sound of gunfire, secure in the knowledge he was locked in. The knife veers direction and he slices down the side towards him, gripping the cincher for leverage.   
Mid thigh Steve is startled when the door to the room flies across the room, knife jerking and slicing deep causing you to cry out, a pitiful cry. "Fuck!" Steve scrambles to cover the wound with his large hand but it does little to stop the blood.  
A hand grips into the back of his neck and tosses him as if he were a rag doll. He hits the wall leaving a crumbling indentation in the concrete. Shaking it off, Steve is prepared for a fight but once the disorientation is shaken off he manages to catch a glimpse of red before realizing he's alone.  
You're gone.  
.  
The bandage on your face and the butterfly band-aid running down your body to yet another oversized bandage at your thigh made it **look** as if it was bad. "I'm fine." A nurse stands idly to the side and you glance at her, "Tell him I'm fine."  
The him was Clark who was trying to take your temperature for the fifth time in the span of an hour. "You're not fine!" He also sends a look to the nurse who looks on amused, "Tell her she's not fine, a high fever is a sign of infection, God know what germs that cell had."  
"It was a clean cell." You try but Clark takes the opportunity to plop the thermometer into your mouth and you roll it under your tongue.   
Beep.  
"It went up a degree!"   
"For fucks sake. Lex!" You yell the other mans name.  
The phone rings at your bedside and you pick it up and hand it Clark who scowls. "Yes Dear."   
The nurse tip toes closer to fluff your pillows as you settle back. The past few days a whirl wind of _adventure_. Between SHIELD putting out a warrant for you - both your identities - and fighting with Lex that no he shouldn't call a war against the organization and that you had a plan. Of course bumming it at the Luthor's meant you had a lovely nurse and a personal chef.  
The high life.  
"The husband requests I should leave you alone less I suffer a dry spell." He side eyes you and you hold a hand out to him which he takes and crawls beside you, careful of your body under the sheets. The nurse leaves and the two of you are left alone. "I was so scared. Seeing you there... bleeding..."  
"Me too." You admit, "I shouldn't be surprised but I am. Steve... that's not my Steve."  
His arm pulls you closer, dragging you off your pillow and into his arms. "He was never yours." It hurt but it was the truth. He gently brushes away your tears - it's not fair you still cried for this man - and gently turns your head so you can gaze at him, his touch soft as it hovers above your bandage. "Give us a chance ****."  
"Clark..." your eyes burn with more tears, afraid, you're so afraid. "I can't."  
"He could have killed you and yet he still holds a place in your heart."  
What? "No."  
"He's still there, he lived everyday content with another woman while you were left alone and bitter. Everything you've done to get to this point was because of him. He's still there, in your heart, a parasite, keeping you from moving on and taking a risk." You're quiet and his normally stoic self turns frustrated and says, "The asshole stabbed you, doesn't he deserve to suffer?"  
"Yes. He deserves to suffer." The anger surged and you used your arm to prop yourself up, "Steve humiliated me. They all knew, fucking knew, and... I still have the fucking dress." Clark frowned, "How could he do that to me, why Clark. Why?"  
"Because he can." You flop back on the mattress and cover your eyes with the heels of your hand and will the hurt to die and your tears to dry. "He's heartless but you're not."  
"Clark..."  
"No. He never cared ****, he used you while Sharon was away. If it wasn't for the other asshole, Steve would have dumped you at the alter or killed you off and you know that's true. Look what he did to you, you don't think he would have that spy take you out?"  
"No." You choke out and you sniff before a grin curls your lips. "He would have done it."  
"Or the..."  
"No." Sniff, "I hacked his journal. He was going to cause a car accident." Clark went stiff and in the distance you hear a crash, a slam of a door, and you glare at Clark, "You didn't hang up the phone!" It wasn't a question because a moment later the door to your bedroom swings in and the very tall, very angry shadow of Lex Luthor fills the doorway.   
"****." It was your full name. Your full legal name and you went absolutely still.   
"Babe..." Clark tries but Lex is a storm cloud as he saunters forward and ignores the pet name only his husband was allowed.   
"Are you soft in the head?" Lex loomed over you and for the first time you were scared of him.   
"Lex..."  
"Car accident? You knew he was planning on **killing** you and you **still** did **nothing**." The man didn't have to shout but each word was laced with venom that had your heart skip a beat.  
"I..."  
"Swallowing a bottle of pills isn't what you do when someone plans to murder you." Oh shit, "Jumping head first into missions without backup or extra ammo is **not** the way one plots revenge." Fuck. "Running off and putting yourself in suicidal situations does nothing but get you killed!"  
"I know."  
"Then why must you be so stupid!"  
"Because I needed to feel something!" You shout, it hurts to sit up but you scramble to do so as Clark assists. "I was stupid, is that what you want to hear? How stupid I was to believe that someone could love me? Me? That someone would want me for something other than sex? That I was beautiful? Smart? That I was **more**? Stupid of me to think that a person could think I was worth a commitment and kids and a last name, a home, I was stupid to think I was worth a home, someone who can... can love me..." it was hard to breath and see as the old hurt rear its ugly head and you can't be strong, dropping your head, spine hunching you press your hands against your eyes, the pressure easing the headache that was throbbed steadily.   
"Lex, ease off." Clark rubs circles on your back.  
"No. She needs to deal with this and not wallow in self pity."  
"Lex!"  
Sniffing up the snot you wipe your nose and say, "It's not wallowing. I'm not a victim, read the definition asshole."  
"Of course you're not love but crying doesn't get back at someone who wants to cut your break cords."  
Sniff, "Drunk driver." Your eyes itch and you rub them again, "A t-bone."  
Clark takes in your red eyes and the flush to your face before looking up to his husband, "Kill him."  
"No."  
"Already on it." Lex says matter of factly.   
Again you say, "No. Death is too good."   
Lex sighed, he was ready to snap at you again. "He's enhanced. What's your plan? You can't get close to him like before."  
"He's a conservative man, his reputation is everything to him." You say, "I got a plan to get SHIELD off my back and I'll make public his journals and porn crap."  
Lex frowns, "No maiming? Missing limbs?"  
You shake your head, "No. There's some heavy shit in those journals and secrets about the team. I'll black out the intel from missions but Steve gets off on knowing that the world sees him as this perfect man. A God amongst mortals. He won't know how to deal with it."  
"Alright, ok, we can work with that." Hands continued rubbing circles on your back, "Can I punch him at least?"  
"You're getting your hands dirty?" Surprised, Lex glanced down at you, "Guess he loves you more than me." In response Clark lugged a pillow at him.  
"Punch him twice. One for me and one for you." It comes from you.  
"Break his leg for me." Lex sends you a look but you don't say a word, "Payment for the stitches."  
"Mhm." You'd probably scar too. "Break both legs." You rub at your thigh where it itched.  
"I smell blood." Clark leans over and moves the blanket aside and patches of red bloom on your bandage, your shorts hiked up to V of your thighs. "Lex, get the nurse. You might have popped a stitch."  
"It's ok, I'm ok."  
"No, you're not."   
The nurse comes in with a first aid bag and your bandage is removed showing that yes, you popped a stitch. It doesn't take long to fix it but you do lean into Clark for comfort.   
.  
SHIIELD's system is down.  
Their backup of a backup doesn't work, nothing works. Cards danced on the screens, Queens of spades, hearts, diamonds, and clubs bounce up and down, left to right, in no specific direction.   
They all know whose calling card halted all communications and in a solo room where a group of people who had complete access to **everything** were privy to a badly drawn cartoon of a queen of hearts card threatening to release sensitive information to earth and Google Earth images of **all** their safe house locations including their own.   
Less than a day later SHIELD pulled all their warrants and people in the search of you.   
An email was immediately sent with your resignation and quickly after that a website was made public with Captain America Secrets on full view and no A.I. or hacker could tear it down.   
Not with the insane amount of protection you encased it in. Still, you had fail safes in case it was taken down plus the internet where nothing died was quick to copy and paste and you sat back in your hello kitty onsie as the world burned Steve Rogers and the Avengers.  
Tony's PR team was quick to claim it was a hoax and the others had denied all allegations against their own humiliation but you had finally let it go.   
You had to.  
Looking up as a set of floor to ceiling windows slid open and you watched as Superman flew in and landed. His hair was in disarray, a portion of his suit was torn and blood was splattered on his cheek, not his blood you're sure. "Had fun?"  
A grin is tossed your way and the papers on the coffee table ruffled as the man sped to you and was right there, making your eyes cross. "Beautiful. Perfect. Brilliant. Patient. Crazy. Lovely."  
"Clark, heros say no to drugs." You interrupt his rambling.  
"I'm sober."  
"Meth?"  
"****."  
"Cocaine?"  
"****."  
"Sugar?" There's seconds, time for you to turn your head as Clark leans in, but you hold your breadth as he kisses you. A soft and gentle pressure and it's so sweet.  
"Let me love you ****." his brows press against yours, "Let us love you. Give us a chance."  
No.  
Just no.  
You don't need the extra heartache.  
"Okay." It slips out and you can't take it back. Do you want to take it back?   
Clark's face is one of excitement and his eyes shine with something that you've seen before, when he looks at his husband and you were a sucker for pain. You can't take it back, "You won't regret it I promise." And with that Clark picks you up and you hold on.   
"I'm not having sex so you can put me down." You kick your legs because you're almost sure you wouldn't.  
"Oh I know." He walks confidently to the still open window, "We need Lex for that. He has a sturdy desk and sound proof office."  
"Clark!"  
And he jumps, flying off in the direction of his husband's company. It would be a pleasant surprise but at least he was right, that desk was sturdy.   
End.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't write sex scenes so there you go.  
> Use your imagination.  
> I picture a spit roast scenario and a very slippery desk.
> 
> I can confirm that Superman kicked Steve's ass, broke his legs - twice - and punched 3 times. Which is why Clark arrived looking disheveled. Also Steve did give as good as he got but Superman is a pretty boy with hopefully good dick (for you the readers sake ;)
> 
> Kinda got some more sketched out but no promises. I gotta edit/update for my other stuff that I've neglected 🥺😖  
> Love ya  
> 🖤


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